Writing and the vagaries of local press

Local journalism… I dunno. I really shouldn’t throw stones, and it would be wrong to adopt the glossy, international magazine attitude to our colleagues in the local press (it’s not a nice one), and I have screwed up myself more than once in print, but… They got my name wrong, said I have three books out this year in one part of the article and then four elsewhere, (truth: three already, four in 2013), the story implies this is my first published short story, when it’s actually my first for Interzone, and states my mother read me The Hobbit, when I actually read it myself. All actual facts I told the nice lady. I think I got them right. I think I did. Yeah.

Still, it’s good to have the publicity, and I have some sympathy for journalists being under pressure and all… But come on! Spell the name correctly, at least, eh? Sheesh. There’s no “y” in the middle, no “y” I tell you [cue noises of Hulk-style roaring and things breaking in the background].

It’s not as bad as the time I was in the paper as a kid, and they called me Amy Haley. I cried about that (I WAS EIGHT, in case anyone thinks I should grow a pair. I had some, they just hadn’t dropped), as I knew everyone would rip the piss for weeks at school. They did. Great. Now I’m having flashbacks.